Feel Your Love in Stereo
by Luna Darkside
Summary: So apparently, everyone thinks Shinichi is cheating on Kaito... with Kid. /ShinKai & KaiShin, oneshot, complete/


_YES I KNOW I PROMISED I WOULDN'T TAKE A MILLION YEARS TO POST SOMETHING NEW. I'M SORRY._

 _Warnings include shounen-ai (Kaito & Shinichi), tiniest mention of shoujo-ai (Sera & Ran), grammar mistakes / general errors, PAINFUL AMOUNTS OF FLUFF, established relationship, etc. Title from Tenterhook's "Stereo."_

 _This is essentially just a lot of badly-written fluff and self-indulgent identity porn. Enjoy? - Luna_

 **Feel Your Love in Stereo**

Shinichi walks into the police station in a good mood, despite that it's the Tuesday after a late-night heist and he's subsisting on four hours of sleep. He's got a cup of bitterly caffeinated jet fuel masquerading as coffee in one hand, there are three solved case files under his elbow, and Kaito woke him up with breakfast in bed and a smirky offer to shower together. Basically, everything in life is good and Shinichi feels warm and filled with helium.

The first thing that clues Shinichi in to the fact that something is wrong is that Aiko—the kindly gray-haired receptionist who's greeted Shinichi with a smile and wave for the past four years and insisted that she'd officiate Kaito and Shinichi's wedding when they first got engaged—takes one look at him and hurls a pen at his head.

Shinichi dodges it reflexively, coffee sloshing out of his cup. The pen hurtles past his ear, ruffling his hair, and buries itself an inch deep in the opposite wall with an ominous thwacking sound like an arrow hitting a target or someone being violently beheaded. Dust and bits of drywall shower the tiles below. Shinichi goggles, jaw slack, before he turns to look at Aiko, who's glaring at him in a way that suggests he enjoys throwing puppies into traffic.

"Sorry, my hand slipped," she announces, hostility blatant as she looks at him as if she's imagining his head mounted on her living room wall, before she flings herself down in her desk chair and begins ignoring Shinichi. She nearly breaks her keyboard in two with how hard she jabs the spacebar.

Shinichi stands in the middle of the lobby for a second longer, his fight or flight instinct screaming at him to flee to Siberia or possibly Tunisia, before he scurries towards the first division headquarters, back facing the wall. Okay. Maybe—maybe Aiko is having a really bad day. Maybe she's been replaced by an assassin. Maybe there are hallucinogens in his coffee.

The next sign that something is wrong occurs when he walks into the first division office and four people start glaring at him. Immediately. Without hesitating. Yamamoto—a rookie officer who transferred from the Kyoto branch and ardently fanboys over Shinichi when he thinks Shinichi isn't paying attention—gives Shinichi a look that would make an iceberg seem warm. One of his hands twitches towards his service revolver.

Freezing, Shinichi tries to think of whether he's done anything that would cause a large percentage of his subordinates ("minions," Kaito likes to call them, usually with an unholy amount of glee) to hate him. He hasn't recently loaned anyone to the third division for tax evasion cases, and he hasn't made anyone do a coffee run in at least a month. For Christmas last year, Matsumoto and Ueno convinced everyone to chip in and get Shinichi his own espresso maker. Just yesterday, Nishikawa asked him out for drinks with the division and pouted when reminded that Shinichi had a Kid heist to attend. Shinichi always sort of thought his subordinates _liked_ him.

Apparently they all lied on their end-of-the-year evaluations, because at least three of them are looking at him as if they've forgotten they're supposed to be law enforcers and are contemplating shivving him with the nearest pointy object.

"I—forgot something," Shinichi announces in the terrifying stillness, setting his coffee down on the nearest flat surface and backing out of the room. He edges down the corridor until he reaches the breakroom, which he hopes will be empty at this hour. If he's lucky. Which is becoming more and more unlikely, he realizes when Tome comes around the corner, catches sight of him, and gets a look on his face that suggests he's thinking about how he's going to hide all forensic evidence of Shinichi's murder.

Swallowing, Shinichi ducks into the breakroom and closes the door behind him. He takes a minute to try to a) regulate his breathing into something less than hyperventilating and b) figure out why the entire police station has starting wishing him dead overnight.

What did he do yesterday—work on a cold case that was about to hit its expiration date, delegate most of his detectives to investigating the clown-themed serial killings, go to lunch with Kaito at Colombo, crack the cold case, write up the corresponding report around seven, oversee a discussion on the serial killings, and go to Kaito's heist? Those are all par for the course. Shinichi does all those things weekly. Daily, even, if you swap "Kaito's heist" for "Kaito's magic show."

Shinichi scowls and rubs at his temples. Ugh. What's he going to do when he goes back out there? At this rate, someone will actually try to shank him, and then he'll spend time laid out in the ICU, and Kaito will get all quiet and pretend that he's not dying of worry, and the wedding will have to be postponed—

"Hey, Inspector Kudou," someone says, and Shinichi suppresses the urge to jump as he whirls around. Flanked by the tar-spitting block of machinery pretending to be the division's coffee machine and a droopy potted plant with yellowing fronds is Nishikawa, who—surprisingly—does not look as if he wants to drive a stake through Shinichi's heart.

It takes Shinichi a second to place the expression on his face, which is equal parts amusement and something close to lasciviousness. Shinichi is kind of alarmed. Nobody's looked at him like that since he and Kaito went public with their relationship, probably since the last person to make sexual overtures towards Shinichi ended up with her hair dyed bright orange as Kaito sauntered around the station looking smug for days.

"Nishikawa," Shinichi says after a moment, for lack of anything wittier. For some reason, that makes Nishikawa grin and amble towards him, giving Shinichi a smooth onceover that couldn't have been any more obvious if he had used binoculars. Shinichi takes a half-step back before he stops himself. Backing down feels uncomfortably like a concession that he's not willing to make.

Nishikawa comes to a stop a foot away from him, smiling as if he's in on some secret that Shinichi isn't.

"People giving you a hard time?" he chirps, his tone bright in a way that suggests he's hoping for an affirmative. Shinichi tries not to glare too obviously. Think of the end-of-the-year evaluation, he reminds himself, and then remembers that 98% of the division wants to see him nailed to a wall anyway and deflates.

"Would you happen to know anything about that?" he asks, running a hand through his hair. Nishikawa's grin grows by a few molars. He leans one arm against the doorjamb beside Shinichi's head, caging him in on one side.

"Oh, come on, Inspector. You have to know what you did. Personally, I'm a little upset that you chose that guy over me, but maybe I didn't make myself clear enough when I asked you out for drinks," he beams. "What do you say, Inspector? I've been waiting for you to come to your senses and notice me. Seems like now's the time." He does something horrifying and suggestive with his eyebrows. "Me and you, sir? We could be good. _Really_ good."

Shinichi stares. He feels a little as if there's a blue screen of death descending before his eyes. Nishikawa is three years younger than him, a pseudo-prodigy whom Shinichi's let lead eight investigations in the last sixth months. Nishikawa is tall with perpetually windswept hair and too-long limbs that he never grew into. Nishikawa watches Detective Samonji religiously and reads everything on Shinmei Kaori's blog. Shinichi _liked_ Nishikawa.

"If this is a joke, you're taking it too far. I'm putting your name down for the next sexual harassment seminar. Step back now, or I'll make you," Shinichi snaps, trying not to sound as angry and bewildered as he feels. Nishikawa gives him an oddly hurt look.

"Oh, you're no fun, Inspector," he sighs, but he does pull back, tucking his hands in his pockets. There's disappointment in his face, as if he actually thought Shinichi would merrily prance into the men's restroom and exchange blowjobs with him. To be honest, Shinichi's kind of _extremely_ offended that Nishikawa would a) think Shinichi would sleep with a subordinate and b) mess around behind Kaito's back. He glowers and crosses his arms across his chest.

"Please tell me what possessed you to proposition me when you know I'm engaged to Kaito."

Shinichi has to admit that he expects something other than the hysterical laughter he receives in response.

"Because that clearly didn't stop you last night?" Nishikawa manages, eyebrows arched, and wait, what? What?

"What? What are you talking about?" Shinichi asks, blinking, and when Nishikawa gives him an indulgent look and reaches for his phone, Shinichi gets a very, _very_ bad feeling.

* * *

"So you see," Shinichi announces, sounding exquisitely reasonable as he spreads his arms, looking like a university presenter concluding a lecture, "this is a perfectly understandable situation to be in, all things considered." Kaito stares at him.

"Shinichi," he says, "you just told me that everyone thinks you cheated on me _with me_."

Shinichi deflates.

"Yeah, this actually really sucks," he admits, throwing himself down in a chair. Kaito watches him rub a hand over his face. There are dark circles settling in beneath his eyes and around his mouth, like careless sweeps of acrylic paint. "Aiko tried to kill me with a pen, the whole division hates me, Nishikawa came on to me, and I've gotten eighty-four death threats and counting, twelve of which are from Nakamori-san and all of which are very creative about how my appendages will be separated from my body."

Kaito is momentarily sidetracked.

"What was that about Nishikawa?" he demands.

"Of course that's the part that you latch on to," Shinichi mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Focus, Kaito."

Focus. Kaito can do that. He can listen to Shinichi and plan a way for Nishikawa to mysteriously disappear at the same time. He's a multitasker.

Shinichi angles a suspicious look at him.

"You're trying to think of some way to mail him to Norway, aren't you?"

"Nope, no scheming, nothing at all," Kaito insists, leaning forward in an effort to look attentive. He catches Shinichi's hand and drops a kiss along Shinichi's knuckles, an action that smoothes the frown out from between Shinichi's eyebrows, which was Kaito's goal all along. Shinichi sighs and somehow fits himself into the armchair beside Kaito, pressing his forehead to Kaito's neck. He has the incredible ability to squeeze into any space, as long as Kaito is there.

"What are we going to do?" he mumbles into Kaito's collarbone. His eyelashes brush across Kaito's pulse as he turns his face to look up at Kaito. "Nakamori-san will make a garland out of my entrails before she lets us get married."

"Wow. Thanks for that visual, babe." Kaito winces and pushes a hand through Shinichi's hair, drawing his bangs away from his face. Shinichi shrugs.

"Someone did that last week to a bus driver from Nagoya," he offers in the alarming blasé way he always uses when he mentions anything horrific and work-related. Kaito feels his face do something complicated. He loves Shinichi—without limits, absolutely—but sometimes he worries about him.

"Going back to the issue at hand," Kaito begins after a second, clearing his throat, in what he hopes is a perfectly reasonable tone, "the only way out of this is if I out myself as Kid. Then everyone will know you weren't cheating on me when you made out with Kid after that heist."

Shinichi stares at him for a moment before he reaches up and pinches the bridge of his nose. It's one of his many "why am I saddling myself with this man" faces. Honestly, Kaito doesn't know why he is, either, but he's not going to question it too much for fear that Shinichi will actually come to his senses and realize there are at least four supermodels still pining for him somewhere.

"Kaito," Shinichi begins, sounding pained, "we can't get married if you're in jail for the next twenty years."

"You can visit me. It won't be so bad," Kaito points out with a shrug. It's not ideal, obviously, but he'll take it over everyone thinking that Shinichi is a cheating, lying, gold-digging sociopath who's obsessed with murder and starting his own magician harem, which is apparently what the most outspoken Kid fanpages are saying.

Narrowing his eyes, Shinichi gives him a suspicious, squinty look. Kaito pastes on an earnest, unreadable smile.

"You're being self-sacrificing because you feel bad that we're even in this situation," Shinichi accuses after a moment, because Kaito's "unreadable" is basically "written in seventy-two point font across his forehead" where Shinichi is concerned. "I _knew_ you'd go that direction the second we started talking about this. So no, solution not accepted." Kaito opens his mouth, and Shinichi adds, pointedly, "Japan doesn't allow conjugal visits, in case you've forgotten."

Wisely, Kaito closes his mouth.

"That's what I thought," says Shinichi, looking triumphant for half a second before he promptly shrinks. "Seriously, though, Kaito. What are we going to do?" He looks like a disgruntled cat. Kaito kisses him on the cheekbone.

"First I'm going to put Nishikawa in a box and mail him to Siberia," he says, "and then we're moving to the States and changing our names." Shinichi still has contacts in the FBI, right? Maybe they can enter the witness protection program.

"I'm vetoing the first part of that, because Nishikawa is not worth the money it would take to ship him anywhere," Shinichi informs him. He lifts an eyebrow. "Not to mention, Mr. Magician of the Year for four years running, you're not exactly unrecognizable, even in the States."

Kaito groans with frustration.

"I just don't want you to have to suffer because of me," he sighs miserably, pressing his mouth to Shinichi's temple. "This is all my fault." He should've quit _years_ ago. Pandora is long gone, Snake's organization is dismantled, and yet he was stupid enough to keep being Kid, and now _Shinichi's_ the one who's suffering for it—

Shinichi pokes Kaito in the ribcage. He's looking up at Kaito with an expression that Kaito doesn't have enough time to deconstruct before Shinichi makes a soft sound, snuggling in closer to Kaito until they're fitted together like puzzle pieces.

"Well," he hums, "you'll just have to make it up to me." He looks at Kaito through his eyelashes and smirks, the red of his mouth pulling glossy-tight as his fingers crawl slowly up the side of Kaito's neck. Kaito's brain immediately stutters to a halt, short-circuiting between his ears.

Abruptly, Shinichi disentangles himself from Kaito and slides to his feet with the kind of grace that even Kaito can't replicate. He gives Kaito a look that wouldn't be out of place in a high-quality porno, the kind that's good enough that you're actually willing to dig your credit card out for it, before he saunters for the door.

Let it never be said that Shinichi can't seduce with the best of them, Kaito thinks, sort of blankly, and then he stops thinking altogether because Shinichi glances back over his shoulder at him and grins, and that never gets old, even though they've been together for years, and Kaito falls over himself getting to his feet to follow after him.

* * *

Through some combination of Shinichi's wiles and the fact that Kaito is extremely weak for him, Kaito manages to forget about the whole "Shinichi is cheating on him with Kid" thing for a whole day, which he and Shinichi spend alternatively in bed and in the shower. It's basically the best day ever.

Shinichi peels himself out of the bathtub around five in the evening, stumbling back into their bedroom as he towels his hair off. He's glowing pink from cheekbones to ankles, either from the last round of physical exertion or the steam of the bath. Kaito ogles him blatantly, frozen with one foot stuck into his jeans.

"Let's go out for dinner," Shinichi is saying when Kaito zones back in. His eyebrows, along with one corner of his mouth, are lifted, which means he's laughing at the fact that Kaito's brain basically melts out his ears whenever Shinichi is in a state of undress. "My eyes are up here, Kaito."

"That's really unfair," Kaito accuses, trying to gather up the remaining tatters of his dignity, and finishes putting on his pants. Shinichi just smirks.

"Sure, of course. Anyway, I demand compensation in the form of food for the last four hours of my life. I never should've told you I could put my feet behind my head," he says as he drifts across the room to dig around for a shirt. Kaito stares at the warm pink lines of his back and sighs, equal parts dopey and chiding.

"As if the last four hours weren't compensation enough." He shakes his head when Shinichi turns to glare at him. "Honestly, darling, you're _insatiable_."

A shirt hits him squarely in the face. Kaito squawks in outrage.

They end up at Poirot, mostly because it's within walking distance and they can both agree on it. Shinichi wears the soft blue cashmere sweater that Kaito got him two Christmases ago, which he only pulls out for special occasions, and Kaito nearly walks into a lamppost about three times on the way there. Shinichi looks altogether too pleased with himself. Kaito would never admit it for fear of inflating Shinichi's ego to massive, untamable proportions, but he kind of likes the way self-satisfaction looks on Shinichi.

"Looks like Azusa-san's not working tonight," Kaito remarks as a mousy-haired girl with a bored expression seats them, drops menus on the table, and vanishes in record time, all without saying a word. It's like being served by a very unimpressed ghost with social anxiety.

Shinichi glances after her, shrugs, and flips open his menu.

"Are you paying, Kaito?" he asks, fluttering his eyelashes. "I want to know if I should order the lobster."

While Kaito is busy working himself up into an indignant rant about how a) of _course_ Kaito's paying, he's the one with "gentleman" in front of (one of) his job title(s), and b) Poirot doesn't serve lobster, their server reappears to place water glasses in front of them. This time, she actually looks Kaito in the face—she gives him a searching, narrow-eyed look before her gaze slides to Shinichi. Her expression goes strangely hard for a millisecond before she backs away, escaping to the kitchen.

Kaito stares, momentarily derailed.

"Was it just me, or was that really weird?" he asks. Shinichi, who'd paused in his perusal of the menu long enough to witness the whole thing, makes a sound of agreement. He's staring after the girl, brow furrowed.

"She seems kind of familiar, actually," he says, resting his face in his hands. "I think I've seen her somewhere before. I can't remember where, though." His frown deepens. Kaito fervently hopes it wasn't at some investigation. There have been too many times when dinner's been ruined by some appreciative relative approaching them to thank Shinichi for solving their great-aunt's grisly disembowelment.

"Enough about _her_. Pay more attention to _me_ , darling," Kaito sniffs, and Shinichi's expression instantly goes melty and fond but also sort of longsuffering and pained. Kaito loves that face on him, because he knows he's the only one who's ever on its receiving end.

"I'm always paying attention to you," Shinichi informs him, unexpectedly candid even as he levels an unimpressed squint at Kaito, and Kaito smirks at him, delighted.

"Aw, babe, I think you're getting sappy in your old age," he accuses, cheerful. Shinichi sighs and shakes his head, opening his mouth with the intention of gently insulting him the way he always does, when the waitress reappears, brandishing a notepad and an angry stare.

"Are you ready to order?" she says in a tone more often expected from angst-ridden teenagers than anyone working in customer service.

It's been less than two minutes since she dropped off the water. Kaito wonders, privately, if she's having some kind of personal issue. Maybe she's just found out that her pet has a terminal illness or that her parents are getting a divorce or that her boyfriend is into schoolgirl cosplay. Maybe that's why she's glaring down at her notepad as if it's personally crashed her funeral and then danced on her grave.

Shinichi recovers admirably, because of course he does.

"I'll have the curry rice dinner set, thank you," he tells her with a smile. She nods without even looking at him, scribbling something down on her notepad.

"And you?" she prompts when Kaito blinks at her.

"Oh—I'll have the yakisoba special," he says after a frantic second of staring down at the menu unseeingly. The girl writes it down, nods woodenly as if someone's controlling her by the strings, and marches back to the kitchen. Shinichi and Kaito stare after her in silence.

"I wonder where Azusa-san is," Shinichi remarks after a moment, sounding wistful.

"Me too," Kaito sighs before he reaches out to take Shinichi's hand in his, pressing the pad of his thumb against the plain engagement ring on Shinichi's finger. Shinichi colors slightly and makes a quietly distressed noise, because Shinichi still doesn't quite know how to react to displays of affection even after five years of their relationship being public knowledge. He still turns his hand so their palms press together, though, and Kaito beams at him. Pink riding high on his cheeks, Shinichi clears his throat and tries to look unmoved.

"Have you heard back from the planner yet?" he tries, and that actually throws Kaito, because he hasn't heard from Koyama, their hypercompetent wedding planner who subsists on coffee and cortisol, for over twelve hours, which has to be some kind of record. Shinichi instantly notices Kaito's wince and narrows his eyes. "We were supposed to meet with her about the place settings later today, if you recall."

"Uh," says Kaito.

They're still "discussing" (arguing) about whether one of them should call Koyama or if they should just trust her with their plate settings when the waitress slouches out of the kitchen. Strangely enough, she's not holding Shinichi's curry or Kaito's yakisoba—in fact, she seems to be holding a bowl of what looks like very saucy spaghetti. Kaito glances around the restaurant, trying to figure out if she's giving someone else their order, but no, the restaurant is pretty empty, and the few other people are already eating.

The waitress comes to a stop beside their table, hefting the bowl. She's looking at Shinichi with an unreadable expression.

"Kudou Shinichi?" she asks. Shinichi blinks, and then nods. He glances at Kaito.

"Uh, yeah, that's me," he answers.

"I see." The waitress nods decisively, as if coming to a conclusion. Then she dumps the entire bowl of spaghetti on his head.

* * *

Kaito knows for a fact that Aoko doesn't actually subscribe to any newspapers; she thinks they're outdated and kind of pointless when she can access the news on her phone anyway. Which just emphasizes the fact that she bought a newspaper _just for this occasion_.

Granted, Kaito thinks as she folds her newspaper so the very eye-catching headline of _KUROBA KAITO SETS FAN ON FIRE: IN DENIAL OVER CHEATING FIANCÉ?_ is showing on top, perhaps she's entitled to that much.

"Kaito," begins Aoko in her glassware-delicate, faux-careful therapist voice, the one she used when she told him she was marrying Hakuba, "I think we need to talk." She pauses. "About—what happened."

"She dumped spaghetti on his head. Spaghetti. With tomato sauce," Kaito feels obliged to point out. He can't do enough to stress that. She had _thrown spaghetti on Kudou Shinichi_. It's made especially unconscionable because Shinichi had been wearing the blue cashmere sweater he'd been wearing when Kaito proposed. Now it's covered in tomato sauce and bad memories, and only one of those things can be dry-cleaned away.

Aoko looks notably unmoved. She stirs her tea with one of the silver-plated spoons from her wedding collection, taking a prim sip.

"Considering that waitress was a diehard fan of yours, I'm surprised she didn't his shank cheating ass with a steak knife. I wish she had," she says, unrepentant and a little wistful. Kaito experiences a full second of pure, unadulterated horror, wonders frantically if he's been deposited into an episode of _The_ _Twilight_ _Zone_ , before he ducks to give Aoko a furious glare.

"Aoko, what the _hell_ ," he hisses. "What are you _saying_? Shinichi didn't deserve to have a platter of spaghetti hurled at his head! And he _definitely_ doesn't deserve to be laid up in the ICU!"

"What, you think I'm going to listen to you defend a guy who's cheating on you with a _criminal_? With _Kid_ , of all people?" Aoko gives him a scowl that could freeze lava. Kaito recoils in horror. He's suddenly, viscerally, glad that he left Shinichi at home, because he has the sinking feeling that Aoko would love nothing more than to bury her spoon in his eye socket. "I know you have a weird admiration for Kid or whatever, but this is _Kudou-kun_. You're supposed to spend the rest of your life with him, and he's off with _Kid_? I can't believe it. And I especially can't forgive him."

Kaito gives her a look that he hopes conveys the depths of his betrayal.

"You don't understand," he announces, pushing his cup of tea away from him. Aoko narrows her eyes at him.

"I think _you're_ the one who's misunderstanding something," she informs him in a way that makes Kaito want to grind his teeth into dust. She sets her teacup down "Look. We all thought Kudou-kun was a good guy who cared about you. I know you love him. But this isn't something you should forgive him for." She lifts her eyebrows at him. "You need to break up with him."

"You don't _understand_ ," Kaito groans, on the verge of tearing his own hair out. He'd come to visit Aoko with the intent of venting a little about the many tabloids claiming he either a) can't "control his man" (which, ew) or b) is neck-deep in denial, but he hadn't factored in that she was going to be firmly on Team Castrate Kudou Shinichi. A tiny part of him is touched to see that she's so protective of him, but the rest of him wants to scream into a pillow. "Shinichi hasn't done anything wrong."

"You're in denial, Kaito." Aoko shakes her head.

"I'm not in _denial_ ," snaps Kaito, thoroughly disgusted. Aoko raises her eyebrows, like _sure, right, of course._

"You set a waitress on fire for spilling spaghetti on him," she reminds him. Kaito winces and shrinks back into his seat.

"It was trick fire. It was for the shock value. She didn't get burned at all," he informs her sniffily, sullen, before he eyes her with revulsion. "Not like _Shinichi_ , whose dignity is basically nonexistent at this point. No thanks to people like _you_."

"As if a cheating bastard like him deserves any kind of dignity," sniffs Aoko, and takes a long, triumphant sip of her tea, as if she thinks the conversation is over. Kaito really wants to throw something across her perfectly arranged kitchen. Instead, he settles for dropping his head on the table and allowing himself a short frustration cry.

Kaito's cry is interrupted by the clack of the front door opening. He jerks into an upright position, wiping his cheeks off while Aoko watches on and drinks her tea with an air of disapproval.

"Who's that?" he hisses as he tries not to look as if he's been facedown crying on Aoko's kitchen table. Aoko raises her eyebrows.

"The other person who lives here, Kaito." Ah, yes, because _that's_ really what Kaito needs right now.

From the entry, there's the sound of someone shuffling around before Hakuba appears in the doorway to the kitchen, irritatingly put together as always. He looks happy for half a second before he zeroes in on Kaito, who's glaring sullenly at him, and then he just looks annoyed.

"Aoko, what did we say about taking the trash out?" he sighs, because he's an asshole like that. Aoko smiles angelically and says nothing, because she's also an asshole sometimes. They really deserve each other.

"Why are you even here right now? Don't you have work?" Kaito scowls. Hakuba purses his lips, because he's the kind of person who actually does stuff like that in real life. Seriously. Who _purses_ their lips in real life? Condescending, half-British elitists, apparently.

"I came home to have lunch with my lovely, beautiful, non-cheating wife," Hakuba informs him, which would be a _really_ low blow if Shinichi was actually cheating on Kaito. As it is, Kaito just gives him the most withering look he can manage. Hakuba just smirks, or at least he does until Aoko coughs pointedly and he tries to put on a face that's less asshatty, with limited success. "I noticed Kudou-kun didn't come into work today. Too scared of being mobbed, I guess."

Kaito fights off the wave of guilt that sweeps over him.

"Or he just didn't want to see your face," he suggests, acerbic.

Hakuba regards him for a long moment. Kaito glowers right back at him, injecting as much venom as he can into his glare. He doesn't need _Hakuba's_ pity; he'd rather have a swarm of Africanized bees chasing after him—

And then Hakuba reaches out and _puts a hand over Kaito's_ , what the _hell_.

Acting on instinct, Kaito tries to yank his hand out of Hakuba's grip, intent on checking whether Aoko's husband has been replaced by a (very unconvincing) pod person, but Hakuba has a grip that's too strong to break free from.

Pod person, Kaito decides kind of wildly. _Definitely_.

"I just wanted to say," Hakuba begins, ignoring the way Kaito is now pulling on his hand hard enough that he's a little worried about the integrity of his ulna, "that I'm really sorry, Kuroba-kun. I can't believe Kudou-kun would actually cheat on you with Kid. We all thought he was better that that." His eyes look wistful as he glances down at the table. "Nobody who likes Holmes that much should turn out to be a cheater. _Nobody_."

"Saguru, honey," Aoko prompts. Kaito is starting to get the bizarre feeling that they practiced this speech. It's a weird thought, partially endearing and mostly horrifying.

"Oh, of course." Hakuba clears his throat and meets Kaito's eyes, disgustingly solemn. "It may come as a surprise that I care, considering our—relationship, but you really are like my brother-in-law." Kaito almost gags and doubles his efforts to extricate his hand from Hakuba's. Hakuba continues on, pretending not to notice. "You might have thought I'd just take this whole thing as confirmation that you're actually Kid"— _yes, do that, please_ , Kaito thinks desperately—"and I know I used to I suspect you of being Kid, but when you and Kudou-kun started dating, I had to admit to myself I was wrong. I know Kudou-kun would never date a criminal." Hakuba heaves a slow sigh. "But he clearly has no qualms about cheating on you with one. My condolences, Kuroba-kun."

Irony. _Irony_.

"I hate this," Kaito announces. Hakuba nods and pats him on the hand one last time.

"Quite understandable. I'm sure you're still in denial about the whole thing."

"I _hate_ this," repeats Kaito, and wants to die a little more when Hakuba and Aoko both nod with understanding.

"When you break up with Kudou-kun and need somewhere to crash, you're welcome to our guest room," Aoko tells him. Hakuba makes a sound of agreement. Kaito wants to throw himself off a building.

* * *

Shinichi is not having a super fantastic day.

"Ran," he whines, shifting as he presses the phone to his ear, "I can't even leave the house anymore. Someone's going to throw battery acid on me, I swear."

He didn't even try to go in to work—he thinks Satou is waiting for him with her service revolver and a strong desire to skip the warning shots. He spent an hour trying to get the tomato stains out of his sweater while Kaito skulked behind him making kicked puppy noises, but to no avail. They'll have to get it professionally cleaned.

(To be honest, Shinichi was expecting more than just a sweater—albeit a very special sweater—to be a casualty of this whole debacle. Kaito inspires loyalty from all corners, after all. There was a small part of Shinichi that had been sure he was going to lose a limb when he went out into public, especially with Kaito.)

Kaito slunk off to God knows where an hour ago, looking indignant and also massively guilty as he went. Shinichi sighs at the thought. He's been trying to keep Kaito from feeling as if any of this is _his_ fault—really, if anything, it's both their faults for not realizing that there were cameras around—but it seems to have all been in vain.

"At least last time it was only spaghetti," Ran reminds him. "And Kaito came to your rescue, after all."

"Yeah, I guess." Shinichi sighs. "I just wish I could leave the house without being scared someone's going to throw something at me."

There is a foreboding silence from Ran's end, then the sound of glass clinking. Shinichi is about sixty percent sure she's about to start painting her nails. When Ran does answer, her voice is a strange mixture of apologetic and indifferent.

"Well, I mean, it's not really surprising, is it? How the public's reacting? Nobody's partial to cheaters."

Shinichi closes his eyes for a moment.

"Ran," he begins, hesitant, "you don't actually think that I cheated on Kaito, right?"

"Uh…" Ran pauses for long enough that Shinichi starts to sweat. Then, after a very long, hedging minute, she continues, "I don't think you would… _emotionally_ cheat on Kuroba-kun, because I know you care about him a lot." At least she sounds kind of sorry. "But. You know."

"Oh my God," Shinichi says faintly. "You think I'm cheating on Kaito."

"No, no, that's not what I said," placates Ran, with a distinct lack of believability.

"That's what you _implied_. You said you don't think I would emotionally cheat on Kaito, but I would _physically_. That means you think I cheated on him with Kid." He feels strangely betrayed. "Oh my God, Ran. You're supposed to be my best friend."

"That's Hattori-kun, actually," Ran informs him, which, _so_ not the point. "Also, don't forget that there's photographic evidence of you making out with Kid on a rooftop, Shinichi. It would be weirder if I _didn't_ believe it."

"It could be a conspiracy theory," Shinichi insists. "Someone's trying to break up Kaito and me."

"Sure, of course, I believe you," Ran agrees in a way that strongly implies she doesn't believe him over the glassy sound of bottles clinking together. She's definitely painting her nails, Shinichi decides with a hint of bitterness. Here he is having a breakdown because everyone he knows thinks he's actually the type of person would cheat on their boyfriend (currently _fiancé_ ) of seven years, and she's probably googling nail tutorials on her phone. Some lifelong friend she is.

He's glaring holes in the carpet when Ran asks, in a sly, salacious tone of voice that drops a glacier of foreboding into Shinichi's stomach, "How good is he?"

"How good is who?"

" _Kid_ , of course," Ran clarifies, and she sounds as if she's laughing, the _asshole_. Shinichi vindictively removes her from his mental list of confidants. "He must be _great_ in bed if you're willing to cheat on Kuroba-kun with him. So just how good is he?"

Shinichi hangs up on her.

He misses the days, he thinks nostalgically as he stares down at the ended call, when the word "kiss" made Ran blush and splutter and need a moment alone. After years of dating Sera, who's the human version of Urban Dictionary, she's come so far out of her shell that she's basically a slug.

That metaphor… may have gotten slightly out of hand, Shinichi thinks with a frown.

He's startled from his thoughts when the front door slams open, then closed. There is an audible silence that sets Shinichi on edge. Setting his phone down on the side table, Shinichi creeps out to the entry. Kaito is standing motionless, scowling at the ground.

"I went to see Aoko," he announces without looking up.

Well, this isn't going to be fun, then. Shinichi thinks back to the twelve creatively-worded threats from Aoko that he'd gotten when the news had first broke. He has to give her credit: he's never thought of using someone's intestines as a scarf, and he works in the homicide department.

"I'm sure she was very… supportive," he tries. It apparently isn't the right thing to say, because Kaito gives him an anguished look.

"She wants me to break up with you, Shinichi." He pauses, wincing as if he's remembering something unpleasant. "Amongst other—less civil things."

"What do you expect?" Shinichi points out, as gently as he can. "She thinks I'm cheating on you with Kid, the guy her dad's been chasing for, like forever. I can understand why she'd want to peel all my fingernails off." Kaito gives him a wobbly-lipped look.

"She wants to _peel_ _your_ _fingernails_ _off_?"

"That's not the point," says Shinichi quickly. He strides over until he's close enough to put his hands on Kaito's shoulders, which sag underneath his touch as if the weight's been lifted off them. "Nakamori-san just wants to protect you."

"Yeah, but she wants to _protect me from you cheating on me with me_ ," Kaito points out, slightly hysterical as he drops his forehead to Shinichi's. "Hakuba showed up, Shinichi. _Hakuba_ pities me."

"Oh." Shinichi doesn't know what else to say to that.

"Everyone thinks you're bad for me, Shinichi. I ran into like four people who told me to leave you, and that was just on the way to the train station." When he pulls back, his eyes are huge and sad. "I don't want to leave you, Shinichi."

Shinichi sighs and tangles a hand in the hair at the crown of Kaito's head.

"Everything's going to be fine," he insists. "It'll blow over."

* * *

It doesn't blow over. It does the opposite of blow over. It blows up.

Kaito doesn't actually know what it would feel like to lose an appendage, but he imagines the feeling of overwhelming shell-shock is the same as what he's feeling right now. He's gaping, openmouthed and not breathing, as Koyama, their wedding planner—their _former, traitorous_ wedding planner—clears her throat and rearranges her hands in her pencil-skirted lap. She's starting to get the tiniest bit twitchy, which is sort of understandable, considering that Shinichi is staring forward, eyes unseeing and glazed, and Kaito probably looks as if he's having some kind of stroke.

"I'm sure you both understand my reasons," she starts, sounding unimpressed. "I don't think I can plan your wedding in good conscience. Considering, ah, the _situation_." And her gaze slides to Shinichi, accusing. She's very clearly thinking _considering one of you is a gold-digging homewrecker_. Kaito instinctively reaches for the trick fire powder he keeps in his back pocket. The only thing that stops him is Shinichi putting a hand on his wrist.

"Is this because of what the media's saying? Because none of that's true," Kaito declares, too loudly. Koyama turns her perfectly lined eyes on him with something like pity.

"Yes, it is," she tells him, baldly. Kaito recoils. "You're underestimating the media, Kuroba-san. If it gets out that I'm the one planning your wedding, things won't go so well for my future business. People might take that fact that I'm even involved in this whole"—she clearly wants to say "embarrassing cheating scandal" at this point, if the way she wrinkles her nose is any indication—"state of affairs to mean that I endorse this… sort of relationship." The _which I don't_ goes unspoken.

Wildly, Kaito wonders why they hired such a judgmental wedding planner. It must've been all the cake samples. She must've drugged them into complacency.

"I understand," Shinichi says, the first time he's spoken ever since Koyama announced she was dropping them and their mid-June wedding. His expression is hard to read; he's making a weak attempt at a smile, eyebrows low on his face and eyes completely blank. It's as if he's been replaced with a slightly emotive statue. Kaito feels a sick swell of guilt rising in his chest. For possibly the millionth time since this whole thing started, he kind of hates himself. "We can reimburse you for the time you've already spent on our wedding."

"Thank you. I'll have my office send you the bill."

"Yeah, okay," snaps Kaito with a distinct lack of decorum. "I trust you can see yourself out?"

"Of course." Koyama sniffs. She gathers up her purse and two-gallon coffee mug before she rises to her feet and starts for their front door, towards where her Christian Louboutins are waiting.

Viciously, Kaito hopes that she trips in her five-inch heels before he turns back to Shinichi, who's staring at their coffee table with something approaching despair on his face. Kaito really hates the way it makes him look years older and more tired.

"Shinichi," begins Kaito, at a distinct loss. Shinichi glances over at him and cracks a smile, which, nice try, but it sort of looks as if someone's lifted the corners of his mouth up with pushpins. Kaito clenches his jaw and glances at the slowly closing front door as Koyama stalks off down their front walk.

"Looks like I'm going to jail," he announces, and gets halfway to his feet before Shinichi drags him back down by the hand. Kaito goes willingly, and ends up sprawled across the length of Shinichi's body.

"No, you're not, shut up, I don't want that," Shinichi mutters into Kaito's neck. "It's just…"

"The secret identity thing is really screwing us over," Kaito sighs. He presses a kiss to the side of Shinichi's head. Shinichi's hair smells like the jasmine and sweet pea shampoo he uses ironically, and he's so warm and soft against Kaito, and Kaito decides then and there that he's not going to let anyone else call Shinichi a magician-collecting, gold-digging cheater. He sets his jaw. "I think we're going to have to do it."

"What?" Shinichi pulls back, blinking. He frowns at the look on Kaito's face. "What are you talking about?" Kaito eyes him, speculative.

"How much do you care about your reputation?"

"I don't really have one at the moment, if you haven't noticed," Shinichi points out, looking wary.

"How do you feel about being indebted to Akako?"

"I don't think that's a good idea." The line between Shinichi's eyebrows doesn't go away. He's starting to look suspicious rather than on guard. "Kaito, what are you planning?"

Kaito grins.

* * *

Harata Minami hates her job. Or, at the very least, she doesn't enjoy it, because generally it involves getting pushed around by crowds at Kid heists and nearly getting trampled by some of the more enthusiastic fans. It's the downside of being a Kid-focused special correspondent, she supposes. The pay is good, though.

At least this time, she reflects as she casts about for her microphone, she managed to get a ride in the helicopter, far away from any sign-wielding crazies, of which there are even more than usual. Probably because of the whole Kid-Kudou-Kuroba scandal that's been permeating every news outlet for the past week. Honestly, Minami is pretty surprised that Kudou turned out to be, well, unfaithful, although she can kind of see where the appeal. Both Kid and Kuroba are dashing and charming, though in disparate ways.

"This whole heist thing seems kinda weird, don't it, Minami-chan?" Takano, her cameraman, remarks as the pilot circles around the roof of the Beika Museum of Metropolitan Art. "Completely out of the blue, and only a week after his last one. Think Kid wants to make a statement about Kudou?" Minami shrugs and edges towards the window, peering down at the so-far barren rooftop.

"It wouldn't surprise me," she tells him, looking for any sign of motion. "Kid seems like he'd want to address the whole thing before it gets any more out of hand."

"Yeah, guess you're right," Takano nods. He pauses as he adjusts the camera angle, then clears his throat as if he's come to a decision. Minami hazards a quick glance over at him. "By the way, Minami-chan, did you wanna grab something after we're done here? Y'know, make a proper date out of it?" He grins crookedly, hopeful.

"Oh." Minami flushes beneath her makeup. She's been waiting for him to ask for _months_. Trying not to smile like an idiot, she stammers, "I'd, ah, I'd love to—"

That's when Kid bursts onto the rooftop, cape flashing white in the moonlight. Minami suppresses a scowl.

"Rolling, Takano," she sighs, and Takano makes a weak sound of acquiescence. Clearing her throat, Minami begins, "Reporting from the Kid heist—Kid appears to have fled to the rooftop. Rumors of his affair with Kudou Shinichi, a police inspector with the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Force, have been circulating since the gentleman thief's last heist, when the two were pictured in an embrace. Speculation has arisen as to whether Kid is going to address these rumors tonight, considering…"

She trails off. Kudou has appeared at the rooftop access door. He's looking over at Kid, smiling slightly as his hair whips against his forehead in the breeze.

"Zoom in, Takano," she hisses, and Takano, who's already in the process of zooming, just gives her a short nod. The pilot drags the helicopter closer to the scene, hanging as close as it can at the edge of the building.

"As you can see," Minami adds into her microphone, "Kudou and Kid have been sighted together."

All three of them watch as Kid turns, sees Kudou, and hurries across the rooftop. He takes hold of Kudou's arm as he goes, pulling him into the shadowy dark side of the rooftop access door, as if he thinks that'll protect them from the cameras. Well, Minami thinks dryly, it looks as if all the rumors were right.

"Go night-vision," she tells Takano, who does as she says. Kudou and Kuroba are clearly outlined, now, lightened shapes huddled close together.

There's a brief moment when Kid and Kudou are just talking—Kudou looks a little pale—before they're kissing, kind of softly and sweetly. It would probably be cuter if Kudou wasn't engaged to a world-famous magician, Minami reflects. Kid's gloved hands are on Kudou's waist, and Kudou's are pulling the top hat and monocle off of Kid's face, dropping them on the ground as he tilts Kid's face towards the light—

Wait.

"What the hell," Takano says blankly. "That's Kuroba."

It really is. Minami stares, openmouthed, as Kudou pulls back to look sappily into Kuroba's face. She's trying to figure out what this means. Could it mean that Kuroba and Kid are the same person? Is _Kuroba Kaito_ really a gentleman thief with a criminal record longer than a novel? But—but doesn't that mean—

The rooftop door bangs open, and both Kudou and Kid (Kuroba?) jump guiltily as Kid— _another_ Kid—comes running out. This one comes to an abrupt stop, almost tripping into them. The three of them stare at each other for a long moment.

Then the new Kid—the _real_ Kid—bursts out laughing. Kudou looks red in the face. Kuroba looks marginally uncomfortable. Kid pats Kuroba on the shoulder, winks, and dives off the roof, opening his hang glider smoothly as he goes.

"Well, this is awkward," Minami announces, summing up what basically everyone else is thinking. Fittingly, that makes it into the final cut that's aired the next morning, accompanied by the caption _KUROBA KAITO AND KUDOU SHINICHI: KAITOU KID ROLEPLAYING SCANDAL_.

* * *

"You could've just told me you and Kaito were into roleplay," Aoko mutters as she rips into a cake sample with far too much gusto. Shinichi edges away from her a little. He sort of wishes Kaito hadn't invited her to the cake tasting, because the square of red velvet cake that she's tearing into looks a little too much like a block of raw meat for his comfort. "I mean, clearly something is still wrong with both of you, because evidently you get off on the fantasy that Kaito is a criminal, but at least you aren't a cheating, lying bastard." She gives Shinichi a judgy look.

Shinichi opens his mouth, remembers her threat about putting him in a butter churn, and closes his mouth.

"If you're harassing my fiancé, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," announces Kaito as he breezes into the room, drying his hands on his handkerchief. He points a finger at her. "You're the one who thought Shinichi would actually cheat on me. I'm considering rescinding your wedding invitation." Aoko raises her eyebrows, unimpressed.

"I think it was a reasonable assumption to make, considering that you looked scarily like Kid in that costume." Shinichi waits for a hint of suspicion, but none is forthcoming as Aoko reaches for a piece of lemon cake. At least there's that, he thinks wryly. "You should've picked a different time to roleplay if you didn't want to get mistaken for Kid."

"Doing it at the same time as an actual heist gives it authenticity," Kaito informs her primly, tucking his handkerchief away. He levels her a pointed, accusatory look. "And don't think I don't know what you and Hakuba do with his deerstalker."

Shinichi... did not need to know that.

Aoko sniffs, but she does settle down without giving Shinichi anymore lasery looks. Shinichi smiles gratefully at Kaito, who drops into the loveseat beside him and presses a soft kiss to his temple.

"We're going to have to give Koizumi-san a very large thank-you present," Shinichi murmurs when Aoko is focused on comparing the red velvet and the devil's food. Kaito grins.

"Worth it, though," he sing-songs, and Shinichi can't even muster up a reasonably annoyed scowl. Even if the public thinks he and Kaito are Kid-obsessed deviants, even they're going to have to endure at least ten years of ribbing from everyone they know, even if Akako is probably going to demand their first-born as payment—at least they can get married now without anyone threatening to bomb the wedding chapel. At least he can go back to work. God, Shinichi's missed his dead bodies.

"You're not wrong," Shinichi agrees after a moment, and Kaito grins and kisses him.

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed this fic! If you did, please consider dropping me a review, and I'll see you all soon(ish)! - Luna**


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